


Handsome Stranger

by aubzylynn



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 14:20:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17489609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aubzylynn/pseuds/aubzylynn
Summary: Bucky falls for a regular girl





	Handsome Stranger

Oh, God, if it wasn’t absolutely necessary, you wouldn’t even be here right now, you think as you roll into the grocery store in a hoodie, leggings, and your hair in a messy bun on top of your head – and not the cute kind of messy bun. Yep. That’s your life today. Your fridge and pantry were practically bare. So, you thought that now’s a good time as any to go grocery shopping.

You grab a basket and get started. Humming your favorite song under your breath, you head to the fresh produce, choosing your fruit. Suddenly, your phone  _fwips_ and you fish it out of the front pocket of your hoodie. It’s a message from one of your amazing internet friends and you chuckle at the gif she’s sent you. You start typing out a message as you blindly reach for a plum, and feel a hand close on top of yours.

Startled, you jump back and look towards the owner of the hand, apologies spilling from your mouth. In your effort to put space between yourself and him, you practically fall into a cart behind you; but a pair of hands wrap around your arms and prevent you falling to the ground.

“You alright, there, doll?”

Your mouth’s hanging open, and you _know it_ , but you can’t help it. This man that’s holding you up is possibly the most gorgeous person you’ve ever seen in real life. Dark hair pulled back in a low bun, with some locks falling in front of his face; eyes wide, in shock, and  _so blue_. His brow knits together in a confused expression, and you realize dumbly that he’s asked you a question.

“I’m–uh, yeah. I’m goo–I’m alright.  _Yes_. Thank you.” You babble, trying to get your feet back underneath you, and he doesn’t release you until he’s sure you can stand on your own. He’s smiling sweetly at you, and it makes you blush. Your brain is absolutely foggy. “Sorry about that, my friend texted me–I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t mean to steal your plum.” You hold it out to him when you realize that it’s still in your hand.

Somehow, his smile pulls wider and you’re convinced that this guy is pure sunshine and he’s going to make your heart explode. “No, that’s okay! You obviously have a great taste in plums.” He chuckles, rich and warm, and you want to wrap yourself in it for the rest of your life.

Suddenly, realization hits you like ice water. You’ve just made an absolute fool of yourself in front of this handsome stranger. Damn it! This  _would_ happen to you. You giggle nervously, hand curling around the fruit and stuffing it into your basket as you feel your cheeks heat up. 

Gotta disappear. Now. 

“Haha, yeah. I gotta get shopping, but if you want to hold hands in the apple bin later, just let me know!” You’re smiling awkwardly, cringing at how nervous you sound.

He laughs again and damn it, it’s the most wonderful sound. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He waves at you, and you wave back before turning around and let your face fall into a horrified expression. You bite your lip, trying to contain the screams that want to erupt from within you.

Did all of that  _really_ just happen?! Of course this would happen to you. You’d meet the most beautiful human on the planet while you’re looking like death. Ugh! You had the worst luck! That’s it. You’re never leaving your house looking like a hobo again.

You try to do the rest of your grocery shopping, but the encounter is playing on a loop in your head. You head home, and the encounter is playing on a loop in your head. It’s later in the week, and the encounter with the handsome stranger is still playing on a loop in your head. You told your friends about it, and they all laughed at your antics. They expressed how they wished they’d been there to see this mystery man, or wished that you’d at least gotten his name.

You desperately wished that, too.

Sometimes, you wondered if it was even real. It felt like meeting Handsome Stranger was straight out of a romantic comedy or something. Surely, something like that would never happen in real life. At some point during the weekend, you’ve convinced yourself that it was a dream. You’d never see him again, so you’d decided that you’d try to forget him.

Tuesday comes around, you’re pulling on your favorite pair of jeans, soft shirt, and a leather jacket, and heading out the door, proud of yourself for looking presentable. You’re going grocery shopping again and you know Handsome Stranger isn’t going to be there, but  _what if he is_? Your stomach is in knots at the possibilities even as the ‘rational’ side of your brain is rolling her eyes and telling you to stop.

You grab a basket and head over to the fresh produce. There’s no sign of him, and you try to not feel disappointed. You should have given him your name, your number, something,  _anything._ You knew he wasn’t going to be there. Meeting him was a fluke – a coincidence – an accident – a once in a lifetime opportunity–

Hold on. What’s that?

There’s a bit of paper folded to stand up in the plums. Written across it in caps lock writing is  _BEWARE OF PLUM THIEF!_

A smile grows on your face and you huff out a quiet laugh. There’s no way to know it’s from Handsome Stranger, _but it is_! You feel it in you gut. You snatch the paper up and hold it while you’re doing your shopping. You glance at the paper throughout your trip; and you bite your lip in an effort to contain the smile growing on your face, but it’s a permanent fixture.

You text your friends about it as soon as you get home, and they all squeal with excitement, assuring you that Handsome Stranger left that for you. They decide that you’re all going out this weekend to go find him and to hang out with each other. So, when the day comes, your stomach is a mess of knots and butterflies. You can’t decide if you’re going to throw up or scream. You know the chances of finding him are next to none, but you’re still excited to hang out with your friends.

You decide to make yourself up a little extra tonight. If nothing else, you could flirt with the waiter at the restaurant. Your hair is cascading in loose waves, makeup done to perfection. And you’re debuting a sweet lace dress that’s hugging your curves in all the right places and it flares out at your hips, swishing with every movement. And your leather jacket to top it off. A little innocence, a little edge. Just the way you like it.

You’re feeling good after the late dinner. A little tired, but good, when your friend decides it’s the perfect idea to start walking around the city to try and find Handsome Stranger before you all head to the club for dancing.

Every dark haired, blue eyed stranger you’d come across, your friends would excitedly badger you, asking if that was your Handsome Stranger. Every now and then, they would go up to random men that fit the bill and ask if they knew you. You’d laugh and roll your eyes. You loved your friends, but they were crazy. You enjoyed being together and laughing with them while on this little man hunt. But, you silently wondered if you would see him on Tuesday when you went back to the grocery store. You take in all the sights and sounds as your friends guide your group to a street just outside Times Square.

You all had decided to make your way to the club when you heard him.

“Holy shi–it’s her. Steve, _it’s her_.” His voice is excited and urgent.

Your heart stops as you hear his voice. It can’t be. There’s no way. This city has eight and a half million people in it. There’s no way that Handsome Stranger was here at the exact time you were.  _There’s no way–_

“Grocery Goddess? Are you sure?”

You’re looking around frantically, trying to find him. Little groups of tourists are surrounding you, passing you. The lights, the sounds of traffic, the people, it’s all too much. Your skin prickles in anticipation. Your friend Anna steps close to you and asks, “Ohmygod, is that him, Y/N? That’s Handsome Stranger, isn’t it?”

She meant it as a joke, but she’s right. It  _is_  him. It seemed like a spotlight appeared over him. The crowds around you part, and he’s weaving his way through the people towards you with a smile plastered on his face. His friend is trailing a step behind him – he’s model gorgeous, too, and he looks oddly familiar.

Even with your eyes locked on him, you can’t believe he’s here. Your jaw falls open as you’re frozen in place. Anna and your other friends start giggling like mad behind you. You find your voice as he stands in front of you, looking just as appalled as you feel. “Oh my god, it’s you.” You say in disbelief.

He smiles down at you. “It’s me. You were late on Tuesday.”

You’re speechless. You’re still trying to figure out how it was possible for you both to be on this side of town at the same time. How had the cosmos lined up so perfectly? You shake yourself out of your stupor and grin. “Grocery Goddess, huh?”

You see a tinge of pink on his cheeks as his friend ribs him and laughs. But Handsome Stranger smirks and swats his companion’s hands away. “Oh, c’mon, doll. I know you had a name for me, too. What was it?”

“Handsome Stranger!” Anna calls from their chittering group.

You turn around and stare at her with wide eyes as he and his friend laugh. “Handsome Stranger, huh? I like it. It’s mysterious.” Turning back to face him, you’re knocked back by the excitement in his eyes.  _Gah_ , seeing that grin is still like pure sunshine. “I’m Bucky, by the way.”

He holds his right hand out, and you take it. He’s warm, his hand is soft but worn with calluses. “Bucky,” you taste his name and giggle. “I like that–it seems fitting.”

“You gonna tell me your name, or–?”

“I dunno,” You reply cheekily. “I kinda like Grocery Goddess–”

“Her name is Y/N!” Your friend Morgan yells, before the group falls into another giggle fit.

You swear that you’re going to kill your friends! Can you not be that cute mysterious girl for a second?! C’mon, you guys!

“Well, Y/N, would you like to take a walk with me?”

Your features fall. You want to go with him, with Bucky, but you don’t want to ditch your friends. “I would love to, but it’s girls’ night–”

“She’s free!” Morgan rushes to your side, grinning and eyeing Bucky’s friend unashamedly. You start to protest. Morgan pinches your side, feeling your hesitation. “Don’t worry about us, go have fun! We’ll meet up with you later.” she practically pushes you into Bucky and waves at his friend.

“Okay,” you chuckle nervously. “I guess I’m free.”

The men smile at you, and you have a sudden realization of how small you are compared to them. Two gigantically broad walls of muscle that tower over you. Bucky laughs (you hope you hear that laugh all night), “Y/N, this is my best friend, Steve.”

Steve shakes your hand, it envelops yours completely. “Nice to finally meet you, Y/N.”

“You, too.” His features are scratching at something familiar in the back of your mind. Your questions bursts from you before you can think to stop it. “You look familiar, Steve. Do I know you from somewhere?”

He smiles at you adorably, and you can’t help but think he looks like a puppy. “No ma’am, I don’t think so.”

You shrug it off and Bucky puts a hand on your back to guide you with him. “Hey, I’ll meet up with you later, Punk.”

Steve claps a hand on Bucky’s back and smiles broadly at his friend. He looks towards you before taking off across the street. “It was nice meeting you, Y/N!”

“You, too!” You call to his retreating form. You shyly glance up at Bucky, who’s already smiling down at you. “How is this even real?” You ask yourself more than him. He chuckles and you face him, “No, really. I never thought I’d find you again.”

Oh, god, he’s gotta stop looking at you like that. You’re gonna fall in love if he keeps looking at you like you’re a work of art. “Waiting until Tuesday was torture. Lucky us, we didn’t have to work so hard.”

You beam up at him and he’s really gotta stop looking at you like that. His cologne suddenly surrounds you as you move closer to him. You link your arm with his and hot damn there’s some serious muscle on this arm! “So, what were you doing on this side of the city, this late on a Friday night?”

You wonder if this dopey smile is a permanent fixture on his face or not. The way his eyes sparkle from the city lights tells you it’s not. You get a jolt of excitement as you realize that you’re the cause of that smile you love seeing.

“My, uh, coworkers and I were out celebrating a birthday. She –the birthday girl– wanted to go out and experience the city.”

You slide your hand over his jacket-clad arm and down to is hand, linking your fingers. “You’re ditching your friends for me?”

“Well, you’re ditching yours for me.” He countered.

“Okay, that’s–yeah.” You duck your head and blush furiously.

He squeezes your hand. “Tell me about yourself, doll. What do you do for a living?”

You light up, excited to tell him about yourself. “Well, I was a teacher in Chile for nine years. I taught English as a second language.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, impressed with your answer. “Oh, wow, that’s something else! What age did you teach?”

“First, Second, and Sixth graders.” You grin. “But since I’ve moved here, I’ve been working at Radio City Music Hall.”

“That’s quite a change.” He quips.

You hum in agreement. “It was needed. What about you?”

His fingers twitch against your hand as he answers. “Uh, I’m kind of in between jobs right now.”

“That’s cool, taking time to figure out what you want to do. I get it.” You smile up at him and your breath catches in your throat. His smile is so dazzling. How did the universe deem you worthy of him?

“What do you say we head over to this little bar Steve told me about?”

“Sounds good!”

The next hour was spent at a little dive a short walk away that gave you a cozy vintage feel. You and Bucky spent the whole time laughing and talking, and you felt yourself fall for this man a little more each time he smiled. He told you about Steve and his family, about the places he’s lived, and you were in absolute awe. He’s been to so many places! It was unreal. You shared your experiences with him, as well.

“So, I’ve got a question.” Bucky hesitates, sliding his fingers up and down his glass. He’s nervous. This has all been some kind of dream. Meeting you two weeks ago, looking like a vision come to life, and now you’re sitting here in front of him laughing at his lame jokes and talking to him like he’s worth something. He hasn’t done anything to deserve you, but he  _wants_ to. He would do anything to make himself worthy of you.

You throw him a cheeky smile. “I’ve got an answer.”

He smiles widely at your antics as his heart beats wildly in his chest. “What would you say if I asked you on a real date?”

You blush and bite your lip, failing to hide your smile. “Well, I’d probably say yes.”

Your phone dings and you see that Morgan sent you a picture of Steve leaning against a bartop with the caption:  **HANDSOME STRANGER’S FRIEND IS HERE IMMA MAKE A MOVE**

Then she sends another picture with a close-up of Steve’s butt.  **DAT BOOTY DOH**

You laugh and show Bucky who falls forward on the table in his laughter. “Looks like our friends found each other.”

You text Morgan back, ( **DO NOT.** ) still laughing, and ask, “Should we go save Steve?”

“Sugar, you just summed up my whole life with that sentence.”

As you walk arm in arm as you leave the bar, down the street, and into the club, Bucky slowly becomes more tense and distant. You don’t understand the change. His anxiety is giving you anxiety. “Bucky, what’s wrong?” You ask gently, squeezing his arm to make him stop and look at you.

He looks at you frantically, like he’s trying to memorize your face, like you’re going to disappear completely. “Just nervous.” He smiles shakily and tries to play it off. “My coworkers – my friends can be kind of intimidating.”

You chuckled, somewhat relieved, hoping that’s all it was. “Well, luckily, I know how to handle myself.” You straighten out the lapel on his jacket before smiling sweetly up at him. The curve of your lips in that lovely smile calm him considerably. “Let’s go. I’m sure Morgan probably has Steve trapped in a corner.”

He smiles at you, but it doesn’t reach his eyes as you take his hand and lead him into the building. The music is loud, the bass reverberating throughout your limbs. Bucky’s hand squeezes around yours more purposefully, and guides you around to a group of people.

“Buck! Y/N! You made it!” Steve is waving excitedly, and grinning like a damn puppy again. You giggle at him while taking in the company around the table. He’s sitting in a large round booth, next to an impossibly beautiful redhead with the most gorgeous eyes. Across from her is a man with dark hair, neat facial hair, and mischievous eyes that twinkle as he grins at you. Beside him is a man with short blond spiky hair, a full life written on his features, and a kind smile as he twirls a butter knife between his fingers. There’s nearly a dozen people in the group, and each face you take in, you realize you recognize these people. You  _know_  them. Well, not personally, but you’ve seen them on TV. You’ve watched news coverage of them saving the world.

You sit in shock as they all say hello in different levels of excitement, realizing that your handsome stranger’s friends are the Avengers. That means his best friend is Captain America. Steve Roger’s best friend was… _is_ –

The realization of  _who_ Bucky is hits you like a ton of bricks. You looked up at him with wide eyes, as if confirming that’s really who he was. It was as if a veil had been lifted; you could see the man that America lost in 1944 beneath the stubble and long hair. You had been to the Smithsonian a hand full of times. You’d practically lived in the Captain America exhibit the first time you went there.

Bucky was already looking at you, eyes wide with uncertainty, and mouth set in a hard line. “You’re Bucky Barnes.” You whispered, awestruck, like he doesn’t know it already.

He nods solemnly and moves to grasp your hand, but pulls away. “I know this is a lot to take in, but–”

Holy cow, this  _was_ a lot to take in. But, you see Bucky’s nervousness and decide to stifle it permanently. “Give me your phone.”

You hold out your hand and he furrows his brow in confusion, his eyes alternating focus between your face and your hand. “My phone?”

“Yes,” you smile cheekily. “Give me your phone so I can put my number in it. How else am I gonna go on a real date with you?”

Gah, he really needs to stop looking at you like he’s gonna kiss you.


End file.
